How Language Starts


Here is something I jotted down yesterday:
It’s 22:59 hours into the day. I have travelled only from home to Baby’s house, back to home, and one return journey to Plymouth. The sofa holds me in a comfortable scoop, while fire blazes in the wood burner. A faint crusted badge of Baby sick adorns my jumper. Her best trick today was dragging a flannel from the clothes airer to slap my face in a vigorous replication of the act of washing. Also, we have danced, so, whatever else has happened, the day has not been wasted. Baby babbles in sound, we don’t yet share a spoken language. When she is tired she rests on my lap, head lolling into the curve of my shoulder. A bubble of sick pops out. ‘Uh-oh,’ she smirks, eyes closing. 



Comments

  1. Mary Aalgaard5 April 2012 at 22:23

    Oh, sweet baby images. I think of language and how we can communicate without words.

    Play off the Page

    ReplyDelete
  2. MOV7 April 2012 at 01:21

    Hello Lily,

    Great post, I think I just found my new favorite blog. Love the way you write!

    I discovered your site through the A to Z Challenge and am now a follower, but not in a stalker-ish way with binoculars and night vision goggles or anything like that ….

    Feel free to take a peek at my blog too if you have time. I am writing with a travel theme:

    http://wordcut.blogspot.com

    best,
    MOV

    ReplyDelete
  3. Lisa Southard7 April 2012 at 10:47

    Thank you MOV, happy to entertain- I have visited both of your blogs, they are both brilliantly witty and well written, so I decided to follow both, also without night vision goggles (although they would be useful when playing the tooth fairy I think!) :-)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here:

Popular posts from this blog

Light On Our Feet With Good News

Image
Friday 23rd April 2021 We go into Launceston town, park in the long stay because all parking is free until May 17th (when the hospitality industry restarts). We are early and Mr’s knee hurts so we pick a charity shop without stairs; Mr buys a faux leather jacket, I pick out a summery top. Bargains curled in hand as neither of us has a bag, we find our way to the office and ask for our trainee solicitor, a young chap in a slouchy silvery suit. He comes out of a meeting, nervous, finds an empty room, and we follow him in. There’s a big blue folder of searches and enquiries which we look through, young chap jabbing a finger at relevant bits, his hands are not steady. We think the paperwork is probably satisfactory but this is new territory so it’s all leap of faith stuff - deep breath, take up the pen, sign. We leave the signatures, take the folder, and our bargains, go to Barnecutts and choose a bun each. I pick a plain chelsea, Mr goes for a rocky road. Celebratory carbs that we c
Read more

Breaking The Heat And Keeping Focus

Image
Sunday 5th September 2021 From August to September was a tumble in time, with many visits from friends and family and I wish I’d taken more notes. There are photographic records. The fields are cut, baled, the bales loaded, gone. We have fed everyone a sour bullace and sometimes a sloe and guffawed at their face pulling. We camped out and saw the barn owl’s pale swoop again. Today in the tree tunnel out from Lawhitton to Launceston I noted how the succession of warm dry days has left the leaves like dusty green leather, like the covers of old spellbooks in a forgotten library. At work we are staying in as the Tour of Britain bikes through Cornwall and roads are closed and many campers and caravans are pouring down the A30 but indoors we can have a YouTube sea and the back door open and admire the blooming pots. Writing going little by little and good, pretty much like the land progress. Wednesday 8th September 2021 The turn of phrase used here is ‘the storm broke the heat.’ Low
Read more